


Barely Breathing

by cherryvanilla



Series: Falling Further In [2]
Category: West Wing
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Until you're resting here with me." Spoilers for The Stackhouse Filibuster. Written 3/21/01</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely Breathing

* * * * * * * *

"I am what I am  
I'll do what I want  
But I can't hide  
I won't go  
I won't sleep  
I can't breathe"- Dido

* * * * * * * *

He stands outside Sam's office.

He has the sneaking suspicion that he's done this once before.

Finally, he knocks and walks in. Sam is at his laptop and doesn't notice him. He waits, somewhat impatiently; shifting his weight from right foot to left, then back again.

Sam looks up at him, first startled, then somewhat pleased, but that's gone in a flash.

"Hey."

"Sup?"

"Just finishing up here."

Josh nods, still shifting from leg to leg.

"Can you stop that?"

"What?"

"It's a little distracting."

Josh scoffs. "Sorry." He sits down.

"Better?"

"Much."

"Sitting implies I'm staying. I wasn't staying."

"So go."

"No, the idea was for you to go with me."

Sam looks up and waits, patiently.

"I'm gonna grab something to eat. Wanna go?"

"I don't--"

"We haven't gone out since--"

"Josh." Sam cuts him off, warning him with his eyes. "Fine." His voice is resigned and he might as well have been saying 'shut up.'

"Fine? I was hoping for something a little more than 'fine'."

Sam smirks at this. "Don't push your luck."

 

He waits at Sam's door while he packs up and grabs his coat, and then they walk to the elevator.

They stay in silence until reaching the parking lot. Now Josh is certain they've done this before.

"So."

"So."

"Meet you at Lauriol Plaza?"

"Sure."

Josh walks to his car, looks down, kicks a pebble at his feet. He can hear Sam walking to his own car, hears his car alarm disengage. He fights the urge to turn around.

Inside the restaurant, they grab a corner booth. Josh orders right away, Sam takes a long time looking at the menu. Josh folds his hands on the table and acts like he's not so patiently waiting for him to make his choice, but in actuality he just wants an excuse to stare at Sam.

He feels foolish doing this. After all, Sam is not some high school virgin that he's trying to get into bed. He's reasonably sure that he could have Sam in his bed tonight, or any night, if he wanted.

That led to the bigger picture, though. *Did* he want to?

The lower part of his body screamed yes of course.

"How's things with your father?" He asks, because it only seems fitting. That's what started it all. What unleashed the cage of tigers that he could never put back again, wasn't sure if he wanted to. Again, the bigger picture.

"Better." Sam is still looking at the menu and Josh is fairly certain that means he doesn't want to elaborate.

"I'm here if you want to talk."

Sam glances up with unreadable eyes, and then focuses down again. "I'll remember that, Josh."

I stare at him. "Yeah. Sure."

"Josh." He looks up, eyes pleading.

Things have been strained with them recently and Josh does not like that fact. He waves his hands and shakes his head.

"Are you done yet?"

Sam folds the menu and places it down. "Yeah."

Josh calls the waitress over; she takes Sam's order of Chicken Tamales and leaves.

Sam folds and unfolds his napkin, never meeting Josh's eyes.

"Shall I leave you two alone?"

"Huh?" He never looks up.

Josh gestures to the napkin and Sam. "You might as well be alone."

Sam drops the napkin and looks up. "Sorry."

"Let's just talk, ok?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't go Friday night." It's more of a statement. Today is Monday and Josh realizes they haven't talked since. In the office things were fine, normal. But ever since "The Night They Won't speak Of ", the strain of being alone with Sam was becoming unbearable.

"Yeah. It was too late. How about you?"

"Nope. No Piazza."

"Sorry."

Josh nods. "You could've come by."

Sam shrugs. "Didn't know where you were. Florida or.." He trails off.

"I have a phone. You have a phone."

"Uh-huh."

Josh scoffs and picks up his own napkin, giving up. The waitress arrives with their food and they eat in silence.

About twenty minutes into the meal, just about the time Josh has worked up a good amount of contempt for the man across from him, he feels Sam's foot moving across the inner calf of his leg.

The pickle in his hand drops, forgotten now on the plate. Sam is intently eating, not caring apparently that he's just sent Josh into cardiac arrest.

His foot rubs up and down Josh's leg in a slow, sexy motion. Then again, anything done by Sam Josh perceives as sexy. The man could make chewing look sexy. These were little acts that used to send Josh into frenzy when they'd first met, when Josh realized he wasn't entirely straight anymore. So naturally that's happening right now, as he sits helpless while Sam's foot assaults him; he has to hold his breath to keep from gasping.

When he finally does breathe, his voice is a barely contained moan. "Sam--"

The leg drops.

"Josh, don't. I can't do this if you talk."

The leg returns. Josh's face is growing hot now.

"What--" His voice his hoarse. "What exactly is it that you're doing?"

Sam doesn't respond and Josh isn't surprised. The question was too blatantly rhetorical. The contact keeps up throughout the remainder of dinner. By the time Josh waves for the check, he is sweating and pulling unconsciously at his tie. Sam's foot has now made it up to his inner thigh. Josh wonders if he'll have shoe marks all over his pants.

He looks around and notes gratefully that the seclusion of the booth and darkness of the place was providing them with enough cover. Nevertheless he feels it's gone far enough, and struggles against the insistent foot. Sam appeases him.

The check arrives, the waitress leaves.

"Sam."

"Come home with me."

Josh shakes his head incredulously. "What?"

Sam stares at him. Finally. "Come home."

Josh can't speak, he can barely breathe. Against his will, he nods.

They leave in their separate cars. Josh's heart pounds in his chest the whole way there. On the radio that 'here with me' song is on. He's heard it a million times since it's been out and always changes the station. Tonight, however, he leaves it on, listens to the words.

As they pull up to Sam's apartment Josh kills the engine and shakes imperceptibly. He watches Sam get out. Watches as he smoothes his suit and brushes his hair back.

Josh glances down at himself, at his mussed suit, looks in the mirror, runs his hand through what's left of his hair and sighs.

He knows what's he happening. He knows he wants it.

But he wants to know why.

He wants to know why Sam can't look him in the eye but can assault him with his foot in a crowded restaurant. He wants to know why Sam told him not to leave That Night and then woke up and all but threw Josh out. And he wants to know why this isn't his role instead.

He knows Sam's behavior is a defense mechanism. But he wants it to be his defense mechanism as well. He doesn't like being the helpless one. He doesn't like that he can't say no when he should. He doesn't like that with one look at Sam, his dick does the thinking for him. This can't happen, he knows that.

But it does. And he follows Sam upstairs. And he allows himself to be pushed against the doorframe and kissed into oblivion. He's not even there in the room. He's somewhere else, looking at himself with a critical eye and an expression of pity. So this is what he's become.

He licks at Sam's mouth, grabs him everywhere he can. He wants Sam. He loves Sam. And Sam knows this. And Sam loves him too. Then why does it feel empty?

"Wait, wait." He moans into Sam's mouth, and steps back, holding Sam's shirt in his hand. He looks into Sam's eyes; he sees the hunger, the need. The love.

"Oh, fuck." He yanks Sam toward him and they slam against the door. Sam moans and Josh can't take it anymore. He starts tearing at clothes, not caring at this point if their Armani suits end up in crumbled in a heap on the floor.

With Sam's help they've managed to rid all their clothing from the waist up. Sam's hands are at his belt buckle; Josh is licking the curve of Sam's neck, over and over again.

Josh realizes his pants are off. He steps out of them, notes that Sam's are too. And then Sam pushes against him and Josh can feel his erection hot against his. Josh claws at his back as Sam kisses him.

"We can't be doing this." Josh doesn't recognize his own voice.

"I know." At least Sam is breathless too.

"Jesus, I'm serious."

Sam buries his face in Josh's neck and sighs but doesn't still his hips.

"This isn't like you."

"I know."

Josh holds Sam tight to him. "We're gonna fuck this up."

"We're already fucked up."

"No, I'm fucked up."

"I'm right there with you."

"I don't want that for you." Josh's voice is urgent.

Sam pauses. "I can't control this."

"Sam--"

"I need you."

Josh realizes the emptiness now. "But is that really enough."

Sam pulls back. "No, it's not enough." His eyes are angry. "It's not enough because this is all I can get from you. We know we can't do this. Hell, even *this* is dangerous. I can't deal without this anymore though, Josh. It's all just too much."

Josh shakes his head. "This doesn't make it easier."

Sam nods. "No, but the pain recedes a little."

"Not for me."

Sam rests in Josh's arms again.

Josh thinks of the song.

He feels like he's breathing for the first time in years.

The pain is unbearable.

"This fucking sucks."

Sam mumbles his agreement.

Josh kisses him. "We do this now."

"Yes." Sam kisses back.

"Look me in the eye."

Sam hesitates.

"Look at me."

Sam looks.

"We do this now." Sam nods. "And you get used to looking at me again.."

Sam looks away, but nods again.

"..when we're alone," Josh finishes.

He looks at Josh and touches his face.

"We're not gonna fuck this up."

"We're not gonna fuck this up."

"Good. At least we're in agreement."

Sam smiles for the first time and Josh melts.

They move together again, but slower, the urgency gone. For everything they said, it was more what they didn't say that matters the most. They silently agreed this would happen, but with caution, and not all the time. And they can't have a relationship. They can only attempt sex and try and live with the knowledge that their love for each other would only exist in their minds and never on a public or even shown(save for the bedroom) level. They knew all of this just by the looks in each other's eyes. And Josh Lyman suddenly knew what heartache felt like.

Josh takes his time in running his hands up and down Sam's body. Lying on Sam's bed, being able to touch him anywhere he pleases, the knowledge that Sam Seaborn wants him this much, will continue to always astound him. The knowledge of how much he wants Sam Seaborn will continue to always confuse him. But it's the best confusion he's ever experienced. It's led him to this point.

So Josh touches Sam's body, watches as he trembles, as his chest rises and falls. And then he runs his tongue over all the flesh he'd just been touching.

And after, they lay together, breathless. Josh feels at peace. He holds Sam, strokes his arm and scatters kisses into his hair. Sam murmurs his appreciation as he drifts into sleep.

Josh rests with Sam, notes that he fits there. That they fit. When he gets up a while later, he kisses Sam, gathers his clothes and doesn't look back.

Josh won't fuck this up, but he needs this to be his role sometimes too.

He spends the car ride home trying to convince his brain that he did the right thing by leaving.

When Sam calls ten minutes later, he knows it wasn't.

"I'd have you in my bed every night if we could. Just-- not just. Just-- sleeping, you know? Just resting."

Josh knows.

* * * * * * * * *  
END


End file.
